


caruso

by parkjinyoungs



Category: GOT7
Genre: Drabble, Implied Character Death, M/M, dude this is sad im sorry lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinyoungs/pseuds/parkjinyoungs
Summary: jinyoung and mark want to watch the boats come back in





	caruso

**Author's Note:**

> warning: dude i mean that implied character death ok like be prepared  
> this is inspired by caruso by lucio dalla and caused me so much pain in my heart that i had to write something sad sorry lmao  
> i recommend listening to caruso whilst reading this as it is the song mark and jinyoung refer to, preferably pavarotti's version nd look up the lyrics as that's what this is loosely based on

_Te voglio bene assai_

_Ma tanto ma tanto bene sai_

_È una catena ormai_

_Che scioglie il sangue dint'e vene sai_

_\----------_

_I love you very much_

_very, very much, you know._

_it's a chain by now,_

_that heats the blood inside the veins, you know._

 

 

 

 

The heat had been almost unbearable during the day and, now late evening, the open terrace doors welcomed the sea breeze; swirling the white linen curtains in circles like a spinning ballerina.

 

“Help me sit outside, will you, Jinyoung?”

 

With a slow, cautious pace, Jinyoung leant Mark’s weight against his own body and walked them out onto the terrace, the tiles still emanating the heat of the day. Lowering Mark into his wooden lounge chair, Jinyoung fluffed the pillows for his back and brushed his hand through Mark’s dishevelled brown hair, almost absentmindedly, with the utmost gentleness. Mark tilted into Jinyoung’s touch, relishing in the feel of the fingers running through his hair, soothing his migraine, lulling the pain through his whole body, it seemed.

 

Heat always settled in the town like a thick blanket; sweltering, exhausting, choking the air and sticking to skin. A kind of heat that could make a person regret making the choice to move there; to leave and seek a more bearable climate. Then again, Mark had never been a regretful man. Who would choose to leave with a view like his? Day after day, he sat on his terrace and admired the bustling ports, the magnificent hills covered in olive-groves and citrus fruit trees, the glistening sea swaying under the lull of the moon. It was the closest Mark was going to get to Heaven in this lifetime. How ironic, Mark wondered with a snort, that he had sought out Paradise with such short time left to enjoy it to its fullest.

 

Shoes shuffled across the terrace. “You thirsty?”

 

“Parched” Mark replied with one of his trademark cheeky grins, albeit smaller and set deeper into his gaunt and ashen face. Jinyoung smiled back, handing over a glass of chilled water, the ice cubes knocking against Mark’s chapped lips as he took a sip. He placed the glass down on the nearby table and gazed out across the port, at the fishing and trading ships rocking back and forth, miniscule from this distance. The sea shone at him and Mark sighed, wispy and feathery, a sigh that flew away the wind and Mark wished to follow it, wherever it may go.

 

The salty breeze howled through the trees and Mark looked up at Jinyoung, at the man staring out at the sea who looked so much older than his years, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that Mark felt personally responsible for.

 

He reached his thin, white arm out, barely able to lift the weight, even with all the strength he could muster. “Sit with me.”

 

Jinyoung watched him, eyes as dark and deep as the ocean, before smiling and squeezing onto Mark’s lounge chair with him, snuggling into his chest, feeling Mark’s bones through his thin shirt. He could’ve sat in the armchair next to Mark but Jinyoung had begun to resent that chair; it had been his front row seat the last few months to Mark’s slow decline and he would rather burn it than sit in it again. A pianist in one of the restaurants below them began a tune long familiar to the two huddled close on the terrace; the first song they had heard when they had moved there, a song they could hum on command, a song that had followed them these last few months until it was ingrained in the very pain they felt every day Mark grew thinner, grew whiter, grew weaker.

 

“The lights,” Mark whispered, eyes fixed on the port and glistening with memories, “the stage lights… I remember the lights, they were so bright…” He broke off with an aching cough, a hollow sound in his chest that shook Jinyoung against him.

 

Jinyoung watched the fishermen’s lamps flicker amongst the sea, tears springing to his eyes. “it’s just the boats, Mark… just the boats going out.”

 

Mark’s cough finally disappeared, taking most of Mark’s energy with it. “Oh… I want to wait for the boats to come back in. See them come back with the sun.”

 

“We’ll do that, Mark” Jinyoung whispered back, holding Mark against him as if Mark could slip through his fingers like water at any point. He’d got worse in the past 24 hours and Jinyoung felt like Mark really was slipping out of his grasp, evaporating into thin air before his eyes.

 

Mark rested his head against Jinyoung’s, whispering into his ruffled black hair. “I miss America.”

 

Jinyoung choked, wrestling with the lump in his throat. “I know, darling, I know.”

 

“Why is he playing this song again?” Mark whined miserably, voice cracked and broken, at the sound of the piano tinkling below, “hearing it hurts more than anything, I just want it to stop. I want this to stop. Wouldn’t that be sweet?”

 

“It will, Mark, it’ll stop soon” Jinyoung reassured softly, not knowing if he was referring to the song anymore.

 

Shifting in Jinyoung’s grasp, Mark looked up at his partner, his lover, his friend and his carer, and a tear fell.

 

“I love you so much,” Mark gasped out, struggling for breath with the little energy he had, “I love you so, so much, it feels like it heats the blood inside my veins. It feels like the only reason I’m still here, the only reason I can still keep my heart beating.”

 

He didn’t feel the need or urge to confess his love; in fact, Mark had told Jinyoung every day of their life together that he loved him, he never missed a single day. It wasn’t even that life comes to an end and perhaps every chance to say it was his last; he had long stopped thinking of that and, on the contrary, welcomed it with open arms. However, he still felt that saying it out loud, reminding the universe or whatever higher being out there might be watching him, that he had someone here on this earth, in his arms, who he loved more than anything and who loved him back just as much, perhaps, it could give him just one day more. Because despite he being ready for what was inevitable, Jinyoung was not.

 

Everything Mark looked back on, all the experiences, places, people and memories, they all shrunk to nothing in his mind. There was nothing but Jinyoung and this terrace and the fisherman boats swaying on the sea. And despite the piano playing their pain every night, Mark knew it had to continue; continue for them for as long as possible.

 

Jinyoung’s tears stained Mark’s shirt, a feeling that happened so often Mark felt like the tears had soaked into his chest. “I love you too, Mark. So, very much.”

 

The moon emerged from behind a cloud and Mark was done with tears. “Make sure I stay awake for the fisherman boats, Jinyoung. I want to see the boats come back in.”

 

“Of course, Mark. We’ll see the boats come back in” Jinyoung promised, their hands linking together and clothes blowing in the sea wind.

 

The sun soon arose again and the pianist had long gone home, the air silent of any song.

 

No one watched the boats come back in.

 

 


End file.
